Castle of dream . s look in the mist-margined the reeds are singing low. A whiff of music through the wood, Blown by an elfin horn,The swift glance of a falling star, Oer dim horizons footsteps pass through tasseled grass, The fairy fields of corn. And sweet as silver trumpets distant call of trilly voices thro the wood, A parting of the leaves before the throne Of Queen Clytella, rainbow-eyed and good, Of filmy moonbeams is her mantle sewn. Bright-pricking stars pin up her flowery hood. Fairyland is just beyond, Always, always, just beyond;Where the magic birch-
Castle of dream . s look in the mist-margined the reeds are singing low. A whiff of music through the wood, Blown by an elfin horn,The swift glance of a falling star, Oer dim horizons footsteps pass through tasseled grass, The fairy fields of corn. And sweet as silver trumpets distant call of trilly voices thro the wood, A parting of the leaves before the throne Of Queen Clytella, rainbow-eyed and good, Of filmy moonbeams is her mantle sewn. Bright-pricking stars pin up her flowery hood. Fairyland is just beyond, Always, always, just beyond;Where the magic birch-leaves quiver,Dance and shake and gently shiver, By the lily-laden pond,— Fairyland is just beyond. Fairyland is just wrapped in tender frondSlip into my shoes, and make meSo I cant be seen, then take meThrough the woods, to where its portalMay be found by charmed mortal,Where an elfin guide will meet to enter in entreat a tree-trunk with her wand,— Fairyland is just beyond. 22. HegcnD Think not I shall neer return, the night, when the red watch-fires burn By the seaI sit at my tent door, in far-renowned TroyAnd think with longing of thee and our boyIn Ithaca, oer the gray sea,I know thou art waiting for me. As the bright web you weave, Penelope,At your loom, do not grieve, Or gaze out at wish will not hasten the Trojans defeat,Nay, not even a wish from thy brave heart, my sweetCan make the Trojan host fly,If the gods of victory deny. When dusk falls over Troy, Penelope,Then you sit with our boy On your the great palace is quiet and rest,Eurycleia, thy handmaid, whom thou lovest bestKeeps a watch at the door of the hallLest he wake at a noise or footfall. 23 BeDe at tlie ^ommv^ of ^u ^aul Slow chimes the vesper bell to evening prayer The old brown monks pace thro the cloister dim,The abbot on the threshold stands; to him With father yesterday I came, from where Beyond these long, bare walls, and grass-plottr
Size: 2892px × 864px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookpublishernewyo, bookyear1910
